


Shared Spaces

by aurorae (orphan_account)



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: M/M, i guess that tag would have to do bc hes been referred that way, really his tolerance levels are put to the test, shotasoka
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 15:43:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1108623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/aurorae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gon makes a new friend on Whale island.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shared Spaces

**Author's Note:**

> a friend of mine were talkin about hxh aus and she brought [this](http://pechyenka.tumblr.com/post/67329607877/ive-gotten-multiple-requests-for-shotasoka-so%0A) up and we were just going into details about it and i was like im goNNA DO I T or at least try but i lied tho this is the real **_experimental_** three shot rip (im 85% certain this well definitely be three chapters long)
> 
> im tagging this as underage just in case shrugs but ill just emphasize _this is really au-ish_ im also gonna assume hell just dye his hair later in life so let him be an anime child with his blue hair just like the old version never forget him in the sushi making episode bless

The small town on Whale Island was relatively lively with the boisterous laughs of sea captains, the occasional swarm of tourist speaking amongst each other and snapping photos of the ocean view along the railings of the paved shoreline, the flocks of seagulls circling overhead were drawn to the tantalizing allure of the haul of fish sorted by the residents for distribution and sale. Three years prior to Gon’s sixth birthday, the tourists were attracted by the pleasing, easy going atmosphere their trip had presented and decided to claim residency on the opposite side of the island, minorities of middle to lower income classes followed shortly after to create their own homes, further south where the land meets the sea, a series of shacks were constructed that its numbers established the area as a small backwatered village. The island maintained its peace, the forestry was unscathed by the clearing, and the wildlife migrated elsewhere in the vast greenlands of the island to search for new territory away from the civilians.

Yachts of sizes both large and small would be frequently spotted nearing the port of the original town, Gon greeted the generous women that would complement his endearing charm, usually joking good-naturedly if he could be purchased. They would leave with crates of fish—several fishermen jeered out loud with their friends that the wealthy did not possess the skill to fish for themselves—the profits reaped plenty for the residents to return home content, and in the following two years Mito had allowed him to fish on his own to help boost the sales for the fishermen. They greeted him with open arms, often offering a tip or two to bait certain fishes or to choose certain lines, other times they would present him with a new lure that brought a wide smile of excitement and eagerness to make use of the artificial fishing bait.

Gon thought Whale Island would continue, for as many years than he could have ever imagined—or he could have ever counted for that matter—to be the ideal place of kindness amongst a tight-knit community. When he turned six however, Mito made it a routine to ask him for his desired breakfast, until one morning she was visibly apprehensive over a matter and forcefully tugged down his green raglan sleeve through his head and arms, just as hastily she buttoned his white shorts and tied the laces of his green boots tighter than usual. A moment later when she detected Gon’s worried distress, she had apologized and begged him to hold her hand while she bought the supplies, Gon adverted his attention to his great-grandmother that put a finger to her lip and nodded— _‘Listen to her’_ —before he was dragged outside to bear witness of the grim faces of the civilians working rigidly at their tasks.

Gon overheard two men hauling cargo discussing the three ruthless murders in the south-western side of the island in a smaller settlement of poverty stricken families that constructed their own homes out of corrugated metal and plywood. Tense, the men argued that the newer inhabitants should have never claimed and created property, both rich and middle-class alike. Mito had tugged on Gon’s hand, reassuring him in a low whisper he would be safe and to drone the sounds of outside conversations.

Once, but every so often twice a month, a new reporting of a dead body would circulate like wildfire throughout the different towns: the wealthy visitations to the port for seafood or shellfish became infrequent, less people were cluttered outside, preferring to remain indoors in case the killer had switched towns and scouring through residential homes like a prowling beast hungry for terror-driven screams or their pleading whimpers to be spared.

Eventually, the town had reluctantly accepted its problem as it was not stricken by crime, nor had the wealthy despite upgrading their security to include gates and access codes. Mito, although instructing him to remain close to the port and surrounded by people familiar to him, permitted Gon to roam outside again after yielding to his restlessness. Gon bid his great-grandmother a cheerful farewell as he snatched his fishing pole, along with some lose change she had left for him in case he bought a snack outside, a welling amount of freedom empowered his legs to run the distance to his favorite fishing spot in the forest.

In the recesses of his mind, he knew he was overstepping his limits, but the ponds in the forest had an abundance of delicious fish that his stomach had craved beyond the sea creatures of the ocean. Humming quietly to himself, he was drawn distractingly to the animals and smaller critters, following their paths in a jovial manner. Once he stopped to look around at his surroundings, his eyebrows knit together in confusion: he had never ventured far into the grasslands, and with absolute certainty he acknowledged he was completely and utterly lost.

* * *

Poverty there, poverty here, he reasoned, mildly irritated the trip from one place to another surrounded entirely by a body of water was an effort in vain when a series of bad luck struck his parents. The villagers offered their condolences when his father was mauled by a large animal in the forest after treading its breeding ground while scavenging for food. At the age of nine and much later in the same year his father had died, the flu had stricken the area, along with his mother bedridden on a battered mattress enduring a high fever, her fatigue made her incapable of cooking meals or trekking uphill to the closest store to return with bags of inexpensive snacks or rice.

When he was ten, living an impoverished metal shack with a few jennies left in his family’s savings, Hisoka had grown accustomed to sleeping alone: on quiet nights or dull days, he would play different card games with a worn-out deck he had found lying in a puddle in his old town, and although difficult alone, practice a few magic tricks with several cards and small rocks to keep himself entertained. He was disinterested by the children that feared the bright, cold intensity of his eyes, and with his once only living relative gone, everyone else ostracized him after the uneasiness that sent shudders down their spines when he was nearby.

On some mornings he would sit on the slabs of stones stacked on his doorstep to observe the men that would engage in activities of leisure like wrestling—often wagering a pound of meat that would engage a real struggle between them—or arm wrestling contests. Leaning forward with a peaked interest, he would rest his hands under his chin, his sleeves dangling over his fingertips, his smirk twitched upwards at the corners when the contest declared a winner or when the winner preserved their streak as the _toughest man_. It was a gratifying sight: a test of strength between people created an appetite in the pit of his belly, uncertain how to suffice the ravenous beast festering within him, Hisoka had spent countless nights devising tactics to satisfy himself through alternative means.

For several months he trained with smaller animals, larger beasts, earning a few bruises that took him days to recover from the different swellings and infections from the open claw markings he had left untreated when limping back slowly into his shack during the darkest hours of the night. By the end of the year, his speed remarkably improved, his stealth was unmatched, and he was certain he exceeded the strength of multiple men put together – and it was all his well hidden secret tucked inside the frame of a young, thin eleven year old child that appeared as fragile as his tattered, patched shirt—that only reached a little above his knees due to his gradual growth–or tattered rope-crafted sandals.

He struck the hut of the strongest competitor, along with his family to ensure their silence: he lacked the interest to hear the cries of the wife and child slumbering on the same bed, fast asleep and unaware of his shadow looming over them. Chewing silently on the second to last stick of his favorite gum, he lolled his head to the side to gaze at them a little longer: should he stir them awake to gauge the sound of a piercing scream that would travel throughout the shanty village and rouse everyone awake to investigate despite the possible scramble of the wife and child struggling to reach the closest object to toss at him in their momentary shock to protect themselves from a darken stranger in their bedroom?

Lapping his tongue over his teeth, he used a fragment of glass to make a clean, single swipe at both their necks, their eyes flew wide open and mouths agape in silence as they processed the blood gushing over their throats. Tossing the fragment over his shoulder, Hisoka swiftly clamped their mouths shut with his hands, muffling their terrorized wailing, his fingers pressing warningly against the grooves of their jaws to cease their racket, but he would willingly admit he received a complete sense of newfound indulgence watching their bodies squirm under his grip, his nostrils flaring when tears leaked out of the corners of their eyes – scared, frightened, unwilling to accept death through vicious means.

Eventually, and disappointingly, their frantic motions to escape met an end, leaving Hisoka gazing pleasantly at the scene of their corpses and the joint pool of red forming behind the napes of their necks. Padding into the next room, Hisoka felt a rush of excitement coursing through his body to see the proclaimed ‘toughest man’ snoring loudly on the floor, in his anticipation he brought his hand to his mouth, biting on his sharpened fingernail to decide whether he should murder a man asleep or awake.

Spending a few seconds contemplating his choices, his arm fell back into place; he proceeded to blow a large bubble from his gum dwindling in flavor. Its burst roused him awake enough, his black eyelashes fluttering open; he hoisted his body into a sitting position to look around the small, cramped room, his bleary sight stirring his conscious fully awake to raise his voice to a sharp shout, “Hey! How did you get in here!” he hollered angrily, when he was on his feet he completely beat Hisoka in their height comparison.

Crinkling his nose in disgust, he rubbed the bridge of his nose to ease his animus. “I don’t know how you did it, but get out of here,” a little louder, he raised his free hand and pointed at Hisoka accusingly. “You’re cursed! Get out of here before you spread your bad luck onto my family like you already have to yours!” he paused a moment to recollect his breath, without a shred of sympathy he hissed, “Nobody just dies off like that, my family won’t be next either.”

Unfazed, Hisoka stepped aside to allow him access into the previous room. “Too late for that,” he purred.

“What are you talking about,” he clamored, as if realization had dawned over him, he rushed past Hisoka, investigating his family’s wellbeing. Hisoka radiated a satisfied grin, counting down the seconds patiently in place, chewing his gum distractingly as the footsteps stomped with an unrestrained amount of loathing and righteous vengeance to strike fear in the demented child that possessed no indication of apologizing or begging for a merciless beating in the last moment.

Allowing him the satisfaction to roar in indignation, the man took a swipe at Hisoka’s throat, his burly fingers taking a firm grip to raise him in the air, his chest falling and rising in his anger, his free hand coiled tight in a trembling fist. “You…you killed them!” he shouted, his voice quaking from a mingled amount of emotional disbelief and savage intent.

Sending him a genuine smile, Hisoka responded calmly, “I suppose I have.” In one quick, fluid motion, Hisoka raised his arm to swipe at the man’s elbow, purposely using a fraction of his strength to relish the sight of the villager releasing his hold, clutching the wrist of his broken arm, and heaving small huffs to suppress the pain and the sheer agony to scream aloud. He bent down on one knee to examine his injury, and the moment he regained his composure to direct a heated glower at the opposing amber eyes, he blinked owlishly, befuddled that Hisoka had disapp—

Redirecting his gaze at the squelching sounds beneath him, his eyes widened at the sensation of a hand pressingly curiously at his heart, the other hand had ripped through his gut to expose his intestine dangling limply. Hisoka set his chin on the man’s shoulder, whispering into his ear, “Should I rip out your heart or crush it?”

His fumbling lips pleaded for mercy.

“I should crush it as a courtesy,” he cooed, “just like you felt absolutely crushed your family is no longer here. No need to thank me,” his hands instantly released the squashed organ seeping blood through the splits of his fingers, the body of the villager fell forward ungracefully, his fingers twitching briefly before his body shut down entirely.

Hisoka chewed his gum distractingly to examine the intestine, a smile creeping on his lips to finally suffice the desire that had lingered throughout his time patiently waiting and training, he overlooked the realization of the villager’s weakness to drag the intestine through the hall, stopping short at the rickety plywood door.

He blew a bubble, his shoulders bopping up and down in his silent chortle, and released his grasp on the thick, stringy organ. His bubble popped as he steeled his resolve to return to his shack, enthusiastic to see the flock of people gather to search for the scent of three dead corpses in the morning or search the second-rate household for their “strongest villager.”

The onslaughts continued as long as someone was crowned the new toughest man of the village, although the results of seeing them writher would not only welcome dissatisfaction—entering their homes was done with minimal effort, he would sigh through his nose that perhaps one person, this villager he targeted, would surprise him with a lasting brawl—but utter boredom as well.  
  
Having waited the end of the month, Hisoka set aside his cards into a pile, and stepped out of his shack to muster an ounce of energy to strike the household—

someone was outside, hiding in the darken, grassy mangled tresses of the forest.  
  
The rustling of a shrub heightened his awareness; at first glance he was going to overlook the shadow as a small cub that was led astray. He narrowed his eyes moodily that someone other than him was sneaking within the vicinity, but his shoulders had slumped almost instantly at the result: an outsider, a young child had groaned aloud, he parted the shrubs apart as a root had caught his boot, clumsily colliding face first on soggy mud with a loud squelching, plopping noise, a fishing rod falling like a domino before the other bounced off the back of his head and onto the mud. Arching a brow, Hisoka approached him; his hostility replaced by pure amusement that a newcomer had found their way into the village lied defeated on mud.  
  
Raising his head, Gon was overcome by relief he found a settlement beyond trees, dens, and caves, but disappointed all the same he had not found his original hometown. He was, however, excited to see someone for the first time during his aimless trek throughout the long, grueling hours alone. Beaming a toothy smile despite his lips coated with layer of dripping mud, he cheerfully greeted the new face. "Hi, I'm Gon! We could be great friends if you have any food!"  
  
Mildly taken aback someone willingly engaged him in a conversation and a proposal of friendship, Hisoka regained his composure. Humming thoughtfully at the request, he humored Gon and responded with the truth, "I might."  
  
The former jaded and dispirited look in Gon's eyes lit up optimistically, the glint shimmering at the mention of food: he could give less of a thought what he would eat; he was absolutely weary of eating fruits and edible plants he had found on the trail. Lifting himself off the ground, he clasped his muddy hands against Hisoka, jumping with absolute, childish joy, his wild cheers forcing Hisoka's hands to spring up and down in his giddy hops.  
  
"Thank you! I was really, really lost, and couldn't find my way back home, and it got really dark, and I never was out this long, and, and, and—and I just really wanna eat something," a little more quietly in his excited banter, his face paled, his hops stopping abruptly, "and there's no toilet in the forest…Grandma told me peeing on trees make them sick, so…" his voice tailed away in weak, incoherent mumbles.

It was the first time in Hisoka’s life he was rendered speechless, his focus alternating on the small hands holding his to Gon’s filthy, muddy face and his sheepish inaudible mutters.

It was the first time he felt _complete and utter uncertainty._

**Author's Note:**

> on the bright side of things i am like 2/3 of the way done with three steps unless i really do have to extend it to one more chapter
> 
> regardless happy new years everybody!!!!!


End file.
